When I am at a loss for words (like now), I think of moments.
Like that moment when Toddler wrestled her little sister in the bold sunshine and I realized: These are my girls and they will always be sisters.
Like that moment when we took Toddler to the petting zoo right before her sister was born and she let the goats gobble from her tiny hands and I realized: One day she will be fearful, but not yet.
Like that moment when Toddler zipped through the playground on our corner and I realized: She is her own person.
Like that moment when we girls huddled happily on the hardwood floor amidst lovely chaos and I realized: I am a mother of two.
Like that moment my girls took a bath together and I realized: They are in it together. This bath. This life.
Like that moment I gave Baby her first Starbucks cup and I realized: One day, she will sip from this cup and not kick it around.
Like that moment when Toddler paced that big old porch clutching that tiny toy rod and I realized: She will fish one day. For trout. For happiness.
Like that moment when Husband led Toddler down to the dock and I realized: That was once Dad and me. At this very same pond. Some things change. Some things stay the same.
Like that moment I lifted my big girl over my shoulders to see the expanse of nature and I realized: This is my job. My biggest job. To lift her up. To let her see.
Like that moment on Independence Day when Toddler skipped through candy green grass clutching a big pink ball and I realized: One day I will not be able to catch her.
Like that moment when Baby first played with grass and tasted a few blades and I realized: There is so much for her to discover. And I must let her.
Like that moment when they wore matching pajamas and played together, really played together, and I realized: They will always play. They will always have each other.
Like that moment when Toddler pranced through the sand and studied her footprints and shadows and I realized: Life is full of prints and shadows, simple evidence of existence and presence.
Like that early morning moment in South Carolina when the girls and Daddy gazed out the window at a new day and I realized: The world is full of wide windows and new beginnings.
Like that moment when my big girl studied the rainbow of flowers and I realized: Life is full of color and it's our job to see it.
Like that moment when Baby ran away and onto that bridge and I realized: Life is full of bridges between There and Here, Then and Now.
Like that moment on Christmas morning when my girls waited patiently to open their gifts and I realized: This is life. Waiting patiently to open the gifts that await us.
Like that moment when we hailed a yellow taxi after Toddler's birthday celebration at Preschool and I realized: Time is passing. There won't always be purple crowns.
Like that moment when I grabbed Baby and kissed her tiny ear and I realized, The love I feel for these creatures is impossible.
Like that moment when Daddy plopped two giggling girls into environmentally-friendly grocery bags and toted them through our kitchen and I realized: This is fun. This is silly. This is life. This is it.
These are my moments. These are my girls.
Do you agree that happiness is about moments - enjoying them while they happen and sifting through them after the fact? In times of existential quiet, do you also think of moments? Do you think modern existence makes it hard to appreciate the moments of our days? Do you think this is why so many of us blog - to memorialize the moments that might otherwise evaporate?